Broken Crown
by WitandAmbition
Summary: Harry finds himself in a world where he's never existed, his mother is unhappily married to Snape, and his father is dead… Funny, how accepting an apology can change so many things. Can Harry save both the world and his mother from an abusive marriage?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.**

Prologue

 _Make no noise._

 _Pretend you don't exist._

Lily Snape repeated it like a mantra in her head, huddled as she was in the closet in their bedroom. She didn't think the Death Eaters were likely to enter the bedroom, but Severus said he didn't want to take any chances.

Sometimes she daydreamed what her life would be like if she hadn't accepted Severus' apology. She hoped she would have more freedom. Severus was always monitoring her, and she hadn't seen anyone but him in years, except for glimpses of Voldemort and, strangely, Peter Pettigrew. The latter one made her stomach almost heave. Lily remembered the day she heard that James Potter had been killed in battle. Severus had been gleeful as he described how he made James scream.

"I doubt he begged for mercy," Lily had said quietly, interrupting the retelling.

Severus made her pay for that by ignoring her for days. He was always so irrationally jealous any time she even mentioned James Potter. The one time she accused him of it, though, he completely denied it. He did that with every argument: denying or diverting the conversation away from the truth. She should have expected it; he did it often enough in their youth, whether they were discussing the Dark Arts, Petunia, or James.

She lowered her head onto her arms where they rested on her knees. There was no way to measure time while she was in here. Severus had taken away her wand several years ago, and her skill in wandless magic had never been spectacular. All she could do was wait for the Death Eaters gathered below to leave and for Severus to release her from this prison.

* * *

Remus Lupin sighed as the clock ticked closer to closing time. The full moon had passed recently, and his body still ached with pain from it.

He stifled a groan as the bell over the door rang, announcing the arrival of a last-minute customer.

"And if you look here, you'll see Remy Wolfe, a tired, despondent man with no hope in life," an amused voice said.

Grinning now, Remus walked toward the entrance to greet his wife. Laura had already wandered over to the mystery section and was browsing the newest books.

"Another one?" he teased, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting one hand on her belly. The bump had just begun to show at four months. His child was inside there, and that simultaneously terrified and excited him.

Laura leaned back into his embrace. "You know me," she replied. "I have to correct all of them."

He pressed a smile into her brown hair. The only reason that Laura read mystery novels was for the investigative side of them. As a forensic anthropologist, she knew what was actually possible.

"If I wore stilettos, I think I'd die," said Laura, examining the cover of one book. "And that's without this little guy inside me."

Remus huffed out a laugh before her words registered. They had been very careful not to call the baby anything gender specific so they wouldn't get their hopes up. She had mentioned that she'd have an ultrasound today, but Remus wasn't able to get off work for it after skipping for the full moon.

"Guy?" he questioned.

Laura tilted her head back and smiled up at him, her hazel eyes dancing with happiness.

"A boy," she confirmed. "We'll be having a son, Remy."

Even though his heart pounded in his chest, Remus' hands didn't shake as he placed them over her own on her belly. He had become very good at hiding his emotions while on the run from Black and the Death Eaters.

"You win, then," he said quietly. "Conor Wolfe will soon be joining our little family."

Then another voice broke into their quiet moment.

"A kid, Moony? Congratulations."

Remus snapped around, his hand reflexively reaching for a wand that wasn't there. He knew that voice, the drawling arrogance of it.

Sirius Black, leader of the renegade group that fought against both Dumbledore and Voldemort, stood there, his eyes cold and his accustomed smirk fixed to his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.**

"It was a mistake," said Ginny, shifting in her seat a little. "I'm not even twenty-two yet. I didn't plan on getting pregnant."

Sitting across from her, Harry felt only numb. From her words, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. His heart thudded dully in his chest, functioning as the only reminder that this was really happening.

"Harry? Harry, say something, please."

He lifted his head a little, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. They were watering as the silence stretched on, and Ginny's hands were clasped tightly together in her lap.

"It's not mine, is it?" he said quietly.

She looked down at her hands and shook her head. When she spoke, her voice cracked. "I – I can get rid of it, if you want."

Harry supposed he had only himself to blame. When he came home from an Auror mission, all he wanted to do was sleep. Besides, Ginny was often gone because of the Quidditch team, so their schedules hardly coincided. The one and only time they'd had sex had been several months ago. He'd been nervous about it, but Ginny had been kind and gentle as she guided him through the process. Though she'd never said anything about it, he knew that, unlike him, it wasn't her first time.

"Harry?" Ginny pressed again.

Jolted from his thoughts, Harry raised one hand and weaved his fingers through his hair. She wore a pained expression as she watched him.

"I – I need some time to think about it."

She swallowed. "Yeah. Of course. I understand."

They sat in silence for another few long moments before she pushed herself off the sofa.

"I'll just – I'll leave, and you can let me know when you decide, yeah?"

Harry nodded without looking at her. Ginny hovered for another moment and then showed herself to the door.

He stayed still for a long time after she left, his mind whirring as he tried to find the best solution. Until now, he would have been willing to do anything for Ginny, but he didn't think he could raise someone else's child. It would be different from raising Teddy, who was his own godson. At the same time, he felt it was a bad idea to cast aside his relationship with Ginny. The Weasley family had done so much for him, and he didn't want to lose them.

"James Sirius," Harry muttered to himself. "Everyone would think the child was mine with a name like that."

He paused, trying to think of a name for a girl but reaching nothing beyond Lily. Then he tried to imagine how the child might appear, which turned out to be fruitless since he didn't know the identity of Ginny's lover. Instead he pictured what his and Ginny's children might look like.

Harry laughed bitterly to the empty room. For some reason, he could only imagine a boy who looked exactly like himself and a girl who was a clone to Ginny.

"Whiskey," he told himself. "That's what I need. Because alcohol is always the answer, right?"

There was no one to respond to him, for which he was actually grateful. Standing, he went down to the cellar to find a bottle of firewhiskey. Maybe the warmth of the alcohol would abate the iciness that was spreading through his veins.

After fetching the bottle, Harry plonked himself into a chair by the empty fireplace. Then he shifted a little bit, trying to get himself comfortable before he got himself properly sloshed. The furniture in Grimmauld Place, however, was unforgiving, and he eventually conceded defeat to it.

"Michael Corner."

Harry let out an undignified yelp. Twisting around in his seat, he saw Ron leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed and his brows pulled in as he watched Harry. It suddenly occurred to Harry how much Ron and Ginny looked alike. They even shared most of the same interests.

"Oh God," Harry said aloud. "I'm in love with you."

Ron's brows rose. "Just how much have you been drinking?"

"None," Harry replied crossly. "I was just about to start. Care to join?"

"God, yes," Ron said, moving further into the sitting room and throwing himself down into the chair opposite from Harry. "Pour me a glass, would you?"

With a flick of his wand, Harry summoned a glass that he filled. Ron softly shook his head as he took the glass from Harry, looking amused as Harry raised the bottle of firewhiskey to him. Harry downed a big gulp before prompting Ron.

"Michael Corner – is that the guy with whom she cheated?"

Ron's lips pressed together in a slight grimace and he lowered his glass. He stared at it, twisting it around in his hands as he avoided eye contact.

"Keep in mind that this is by word of mouth," he said quietly. "Ginny told Luna who told Neville who told Hermione who told me… You get the idea." He paused, pulling in and then slowly releasing a deep breath. "Corner was the one who took Ginny's virginity, back when we were off camping and Snape turned the school into an internment camp. Then, recently, not finding enough, er, sexual stimulation with you… She got with Corner during the game last month."

Guilt made Harry's chest tighten. It really was his fault, then. His relationship with Ginny had always been rather platonic and more like a friendship than anything else.

He turned away from Ron and knocked back another large gulp of firewhiskey. Perhaps if he made no noise and pretended he didn't exist, everything would go back to being the same as it was this morning. When he glanced at Ron, he noticed the skin bunching around Ron's eyes, and quickly looked away again.

"Albus Severus," Harry said suddenly. "That's a good name, right? Two guys who ruined my life for the kid who ruined my relationship."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ron smile waveringly. "Oi, don't blame the poor kid. He's just the product of bad choices. If it's a he, that is."

Harry snorted loudly. He was finally starting to feel a light buzz. The warmth had spread through his body, making his limbs tingle, and it was a strangely good feeling compared to the numbness from earlier. Now all that was left was filling the emptiness in his stomach.

"I'm going to get crackers," he announced.

"Alright," Ron said, stretching in his seat. "I'll take some, too."

With a wave to him, Harry exited the room. It wasn't until then that he realized he would have to go downstairs. He blinked at them, trying to focus his vision which was blurring at the edges, and cautiously took a step forward while holding onto the candelabra on the wall for support, ignoring the slight clicking sound it produced. Everything was falling apart in Grimmauld Place and Harry hadn't ever gotten the drive to fix it.

At the bottom of the stairs, he was surprised to see the door closed. Harry stared at it, frowning. He could have sworn he left it open. Shrugging to himself, he pushed on the door and stepped into the kitchen.

Then he stopped.

At the table sat two men who were nearly identical in appearance. One of them was standing, and Harry, with a slightly sluggish mind, recognized him.

"I'm not nearly drunk enough for this," sighed Harry.

Those were his last words before Sirius Black fired a Stunner at him.

* * *

 **AN:** Ever notice that James is the _only_ kid whose appearance was never described? We even know more about Rose (red hair) and Hugo (bushy hair) than James.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.**

 _From the outside, the family looks happy, but you know that isn't true._

 _The oldest boy hates you, because he also knows the truth. He isn't your son. Yes, he has dark hair, but it isn't the mess which is a trademark of your family, and he grows to look more like Michael Corner each day. He looks hopefully at his mother, the wife you pretend to love, but she does little more than beret him and insult him. She has no time for him, not when she is trying so hard to look happy. He hugs you quickly, more for appearance than anything else, and then disappears to find his friends. Your wife is waving at her niece but wouldn't notice if her eldest son ceased to exist._

 _The youngest boy is the one you hate. Born only fifteen months after his brother, it is because of him that you are tied to your wife. You named him Albus Severus for the two men you hate as much as him. Of the three children, he is the only one to look like you, as he is your only biological child. Your wife wanted a child with you so desperately that she used a potion to help conceive him. Looking at him, you can see all of your mistakes reflected in him, and sometimes you hate yourself even more than you do him._

 _The girl has your wife's red hair. You aren't sure who her father is, but you know it isn't you. Fortunately she looks so similar to her mother that no one would guess at your wife's extramarital affair. You know people will start wondering, though, as they have already begun whispering about her oldest brother. You almost feel pity for her._

 _From the outside, the family looks happy, but there are so many cracks and one day, you know you will fall right through them. For now, though, you smile, and pretend that all is well._

 ** _-BC-_**

"Hello, Mr. Prisoner? Are you awake? It's meal time."

Harry's eyes snapped open. His chest stuttered when he saw the bars in front of him. Nervous prickles ran up his spine. He had no recollection of getting here. A few shots of whiskey shouldn't have gotten him so drunk that he would black out.

Footsteps approached the cell. Harry lowered his eyelids and watched through his lashes as a pair of boots stopped in front of him. The man knelt to push three slices of soggy bread through the bars. Harry hoped that wasn't to be his entire meal. Back when he lived with the Dursleys, he might have been able to live off of only bread, but his diet was much bigger now.

"I'm not supposed to be here," the man said conversationally.

Harry felt his expression begin to shift and hastily smoothed it again. He wanted the man to leave so he could eat in peace and figure out his bearings.

"Ah, so you _are_ awake." The man spoke in a satisfied tone. "What's your name, eh? I don't recognize you, so you can't have gone to Hogwarts. Are you a Death Eater?"

This time, Harry didn't bother hiding his expression and let his brows knit together in a frown. Never in his life, at least not since his defeat of Voldemort, had someone been unable to recognize him. Normally, such an incident would be refreshing, but now it was cause for worry. Most disturbing of all was that the man accused him of being a Death Eater. Harry Potter would be the last person to ever side with Voldemort.

"I have quite a while to wait. My father and uncle are too busy to notice anyone is down here."

 _Down here._ Harry made a mental note of that phrase as he opened his eyes and sat up. The young man was sitting cross-legged in front of the cell, utterly at ease and unconcerned of any attack. Harry wished he could say the same.

"Who are you?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Nuh-uh," the man said, wagging a finger, "you first."

Harry tried to discern any possible danger in revealing his name. This entire time, his mind had been racing to make any sense of the situation. He decided to trust his instincts.

"My name is… Roonil Wazlib."

A mask of reserve seemed to cover the man's face, but a thin smile edged his lips and his eyes glinted with sardonic amusement. "Parents are awful, aren't they? Mine named me Elvendork. I go by Dork for short."

Harry stared at him blankly, unsure if he should laugh or not. His Auror training hadn't really gone in-depth on how to respond to a potential kidnapper.

"Such is life," the young man sighed. "It could be worse, though. I know a girl named Rhoda Pucey."

Harry made a small sound.

"It is unfortunate," the man acknowledged. "As you might imagine, she was fairly loose, too." He sighed and shook his head. "Parents should really be more considerate of their children, if you ask me. Names have a lasting impact. Poor Rhoda probably figured she ought to live up to her name."

It was then Harry tossed the idea to name the baby Albus Severus. He didn't need someone trying to be like Dumbledore or Snape.

From somewhere out of sight to Harry, he heard a door open.

"Caelum, are you down there?" a woman's voice called.

The young man looked over his shoulder. "Yeah. What do you need?"

"Uncle Sirius has left and Father is looking for you. He wants you to pick up Aries."

Harry's heart nearly exploded out of his chest. The name 'Sirius' echoed in his mind, and he had a flash of a man, far older than he should have been, pointing a wand at him.

A flash of irritation crossed Caelum's face and he pushed himself to his feet.

"Why do _I_ have to do it? Why not Castor?"

"Because he's busy," came the terse reply. "Now stop lollygagging. We can't make Aries wait, you know how dangerous it is."

Grumbling beneath his breath, Caelum trudged toward the other side of the room. Craning his neck, Harry was able to see stairs leading upward. At the base of them, Caelum stopped and turned around, his mouth curved up into a smile again.

"Enjoy that meal, Wazlib," he said. "It'll probably be the last one you get."

Then, with a short laugh, he bounded up the stairs and Harry heard the door slam closed again, leaving him alone in the cell. Harry stared at the soggy bread, nausea gripping the muscles of his stomach.

Despite feeling like it would make him sick, Harry picked up the bread and began nibbling on it. Silently, he went over the facts he knew so far. Someone who looked disturbingly like Sirius had been the one to stun him. Caelum and the woman were also related to Sirius, likely as his nephew and niece or in a similar capacity. Even more confusing, Harry had been kidnapped within his own home, which should have been impossible. Only a short list of people could get into Grimmauld Place, and he found it unlikely Ron had let them inside.

Harry's chest tightened. He'd forgotten Ron. His best friend had been upstairs waiting for him. Throwing the bread to the side, Harry lowered his head into his hands and his throat thickened with repressed tears. He had gotten his best friend killed. If what Caelum had said was true, then Harry didn't mind his upcoming fate. He deserved to die.

He jumped as the door opened again. Lifting his head, his eyes widened as another man descended the stairs. The man was obviously Caelum's father, but more disturbing was the fact that he looked like a slighter version of Sirius Black.

"You're lucky," the man said, his voice emotionless. "My brother wanted to put you in the ground. I convinced him a cell is better."

Harry's voice came out as a croak. "Thanks."

The man's dark brows rose. "Raised by Muggles," he murmured as he bent down to peer at Harry, sharp gray eyes moving over Harry's face. "You can't be a Potter, then. Who are you?"

Harry wasn't sure if he should be affronted or not. Judging by his racing heart, however, he was more scared than affronted. He licked his lips and decided to go with the same tactic he used with Caelum.

"Roonil," he answered. "My name is Roonil Wazlib."

"If you're going to lie, at least make it believable," the man said flatly. "Even in our world, no one would be that unfortunate."

For a moment, Harry considered telling him about the future Albus Severus, but decided the man wouldn't believe it. Only someone insane would come up with such a name, and Harry was clearly not insane. That was the man in front of him, the one who thought he could actually get away with kidnapping Harry Potter of all people.

Harry bit his lip and said hesitantly, "Evan Jameson?"

"A thoroughly Muggle name," the man said. "One which I could believe, in your case."

Then, without any warning, he flicked his wand and Harry leaped back as the cell's bars briefly shimmered. A ward had been set over them, and Harry knew better than to try touching it.

"I heard what my son told you," the man said. "Rest assured, you aren't going to die yet. How much longer you live, however, depends upon your cooperation."

"You wouldn't believe me," said Harry.

The man's expression didn't shift. "Why wouldn't I?"

Harry paused before speaking. His mind had raced through the possibilities and reached only one conclusion.

"Because I'm fairly certain you're Regulus Black, and as far as I'm aware, you died twenty-four years ago."


End file.
